


Faust

by tinkertoysdamn



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Betrayal, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Community: snkkink, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, M/M, Trainee Era, Unbeta'd, unwanted kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-12 04:17:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinkertoysdamn/pseuds/tinkertoysdamn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for the snk kink meme prompt here: http://snkkink.dreamwidth.org/8414.html?thread=6760926</p>
<p>AU where Marco was transformed into a Titan shifter after Trost and makes a deal to work with the the other shifters on one condition, they transform Jean as well.</p>
<p>warnings for non-sexual non-con and sexual dubcon at the end of the third chapter</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Stay with me, Armin! Stay with me!” Jean wrapped the strips of ruined sheets around Armin’s head trying to stem the flow of blood. The younger man’s bright intelligent eyes were dulled with pain and lacked their usual awareness. Jean had Armin’s head gently cradled in his lap as he put his meager medical knowledge to use. 

They were safe for the moment hidden in an abandoned farmhouse, but Jean was not certain how long their luck would hold. He risked looking up from the prone Armin to the room’s other occupant. “How are you holding up?” Jean asked.

Historia gave Jean a weak smile; a crimson stain was bleeding through the makeshift bandage on her arm. She was propped up near a window, her back to the wall. “It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to.” She rolled her head around to look outside. “I haven’t seen a Titan for a while,” she paused, “or anyone else.” 

Jean frowned as he processed this information. He didn’t know how many members of the Scouting Legion were still alive; he had lost track when a group of Titans broke through the middle of their formation. Eren had transformed and jumped right into the fray with Mikasa following close behind him. 

Armin had been middle of explaining a new plan when a fifteen-meter Titan with dark spots on its face had backhanded Armin right off his horse. Jean’s heart had leapt in his throat as he heard the crack when Armin slammed into a wall. He had pushed his horse too hard when he went to retrieve his fallen comrade and now the animal was too exhausted to go on.

Connie, on the other hand, hadn’t been so lucky. Jean grit his teeth as he remembered the helpless expression on the boy’s face as he had been lifted into the air, legs broken and his voice hoarse from screaming--

Armin’s eyelids started to droop and Jean lightly slapped his face. He had lost too many people already; he was not going to lose Armin as well. “Stay awake,” he ordered. 

He had no idea what they were going to do; the only thought in his head was that he was not going to allow Armin to die before him. It was a selfish desire but an understandable one.

“Jean,” Armin said, lifting a hand to the other man’s cheek. “I just want you to know, I don’t regret anything.”

Jean swallowed the lump in his throat. “Hey, just give me a few minutes I might disappoint you yet.” He turned his head to kiss Armin’s palm. It was filthy, covered in dirt, blood, and god knows what else but the tenderness was worth the risk.

Historia coughed to get Jean’s attention. “Do you think Mikasa and Eren are okay?” she asked.

Jean snorted. “They better be; I’m almost out of gas and my blades are shot.” 

Historia didn’t offer any information about the condition of her equipment. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that it must be in bad shape. 

There was a loud thump on the roof. Historia and Jean tensed, waiting for anything. His blade was dull, but Jean was not going down without a fight. The sounds on the rooftop shifted, moving from the rear to the front door. It was much too soft a sound for a Titan. 

The front door creaked open and in stumbled Mikasa with Eren draped across her back. Eren looked like hell. He was missing limbs and the side of his face was torn up; his flesh was steaming with the effort to heal himself.

Jean rolled his eyes in disgust; it drove him nuts when Eren hurt himself like this. After so many years, one would think that Humanity’s Greatest Hope would learn some self-preservation. “He overdid it again.” 

Mikasa propped Eren against the wall with a gentleness only a few knew she was capable of. She brushed the dark hair back from his face and sighed. She stood and stretched out her back, rolling her sore shoulders. “He called the Titans away just before I cut him out,” she said. “We might have a chance of escape.”

“What about the Titan shifters?” Armin asked. He tried to sit upright but was having trouble. Jean pressed up behind Armin, helping without being asked. “I don’t think his power works on them.” Armin’s hand clutched at Jean’s in gratitude.

“It’s a risk we’ll have to take,” Historia said. “I don’t think we’ll be able to stay here.”

“Why?” Jean asked.

“Because we don’t know why the Titans were here.” Historia was right, this area was supposed to be clear, a safe haven to camp in before launching a major offensive in the morning. “Eren called them away but they might come back. Also, if Mikasa could find us a smarter Titan could find us too.”

No one had to ask for clarification for what she meant by a “smarter Titan.” Armin, still weak with blood loss, turned his attention to another of Historia’s points. “How did you find us?” he asked Mikasa.

“I saw a horse out front and assumed someone was inside,” Mikasa answered.

Of course, Jean hadn’t found a place to hide the animal when Armin, Historia and himself had sought refuge earlier. He had forgotten all about it until now. “One horse isn’t going to do us much good with five people.”

“It’s tired, but it might be able to carry me,” Armin said. “You and Mikasa can take turns carrying Eren until he’s healed.” Despite his injuries Armin’s analytical mind seemed to still be working; Jean took it as a good sign. “Do you think you can lead the horse, Historia?” Armin asked.

“Yes,” Historia answered. “I still have one good arm.” 

It seemed like everyone was on the same page. Jean didn’t have much confidence in the success of their new mission but it was better than sitting around waiting to die. To be honest, he had no idea where they were going to escape _to_. The Walls had been breached and Titans were overrunning the city. Was there any place that could really be safe?

Jean took to his feet, and with some effort, got Armin up as well. With the younger man pressed against him it would be slow going until they got him up on the horse. “We should get going and find a new spot before nightfall,” Jean told the others. 

Eren let out a weak moan as Mikasa wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He was awake now, which made Jean feel a little better. There was something eerie about Jaeger when he was too quiet. 

Of course now that they had plotted a new course of action everything went straight to hell. The front door burst open with a loud bang revealing the exact people Jean did not want to see.

He had heard from Historia and Eren how Ymir had allowed herself to be taken, but Jean didn’t quite know how to feel about her. Reiner and Bertolt, on the other hand, he wanted to rip apart for what they did. 

Ymir’s eyes were wild as she scanned the room, her body tense with anxiety. When her gaze landed on Historia she launched herself at the smaller woman, gathering her into her arms. “You’re safe now, you’re safe,” she muttered, pressing kisses to Historia’s cheeks and face. 

Historia just clutched at Ymir, refusing to let the other go. “I missed you so much,” Historia said, her voice choked with emotion. On another occasion, it would have been a heartwarming scene, but Jean was too busy watching the two traitors to notice.

Just what were they doing here? Were they hoping to finish them off since the other Titans couldn’t? Suddenly, the standoff was broken and Bertolt rushed right at Armin. Jean moved to protect the smaller man but was violently ripped away. He struggled against Reiner, but the older man had always been better at hand-to-hand combat. Jean’s arms were wrenched behind his back and all he could do was watch as Bertolt grabbed Armin by the front of his shirt, shaking him like a terrier with a rat in its jaws.

“Where’s Annie?” Bertolt shouted. “Where are you keeping her?”

“Look at him! He can’t answer you!” Jean threw his weight back, but Reiner was a solid mass of muscle; it would have been easier to push over a brick wall.

“Shut up, Kirschtein,” Reiner snapped. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Armin was still bleeding, still dazed from being attacked by a Titan and now Bertolt was making it worse, doing god knows what sort of damage inside. Like hell it didn’t concern Jean. “She’s underground somewhere behind Wall Sina. I don’t know where.”

Bertolt shook Armin again. “Is that where they’re torturing her? Tell me!”

Oh god, Armin. He had to do something, say anything to keep Bertolt from killing Armin. “She’s still in the crystal!” Jean shouted.

Bertolt lowered Armin to the ground, allowing the young soldier to stand on his own two feet. “What?” he asked.

“They could never get Annie out,” Jean admitted. “She’s too much of a coward to face what she’s done.” He was blunt as always and Jean could see that it struck a nerve.

“Annie’s no coward,” Bertolt said, his voice low and dangerous. It wasn’t safe getting Bertolt riled up, but it was better he be pissed at Jean than take it out on Armin.

Jean licked his lips, nervous as hell. “Then why did she seal herself away? Why didn’t she explain herself?”

Bertolt was right in front of him now, Armin clutched in one hand, the other clenched in a fist. “Armin told me they were torturing her, hurting her for information.”

Jean scoffed; the shifters had really underestimated Armin. “He would have said anything to get you to let go of Eren.” As Bertolt’s eyes widened in realization, Jean pressed on. “It’s not his fault you believed him.”

Bertolt looked at Reiner, the two of them communicating silently over Jean’s shoulder. After a moment, Bertolt turned his gaze back to Jean and asked, “How do I even know you’re telling the truth?”  
“Because Jean was never any good at lying.” It was a voice that none of the remaining members of the 104th squadron had ever expected to hear again. 

It was Marco. Except for being a little taller and gaining more muscle, he looked remarkably the same. He still had that gentle air and that same soft smile which somehow stayed in place on his lips even as he held a blade to Mikasa’s throat.

Mikasa glared at the intruder, her hand clutching her sword grip. She would never have allowed Bertolt to get his hands on Armin if it hadn’t been for Marco. 

“Put your sword away, Mikasa,” Marco said. “Bertolt will let go of Armin, right?” He gave his fellow shifter a pointed look.

Bertolt let Armin go, the smaller man catching himself before he completely collapsed on the floor. He was trembling, but Armin was determined to remain on his feet. 

“Armin!” Mikasa ignored the pain as the blade sliced a thin crimson line against her neck.

Armin held up a hand as if to tell her it was okay, he was fine. “Take care of Eren,” he muttered. “We need to get through this.” It was only then that she backed up and holstered her weapon. 

Jean was almost too stunned for speech. His knees trembled in shock. “I saw you—you were dead.” Jean’s voice hitched in his throat, the salt of tears stinging his eyes. “I burned your body!” 

Marco just continued smiling, his expression as beatific now as it had been five years ago. “Oh Jean, that was just the half of me that didn’t regenerate.” 

The charred bones in Jean’s pocket seemed to become heavier. Some of the Scouting Legion had thought they were a morbid reminder, but to Jean they had become a sacred talisman, a tool to help him on those days when things were at their bleakest. They had gotten him through the doubts that had threatened to cripple him at his weakest and had given him the courage to continue forward. 

Marco’s death had lit a fire in Jean’s soul; it had made him reexamine his future and humanity’s destiny. It had inspired Jean to hold dear those who became close to him, to never take those people for granted. As the death toll had mounted and he had lost more and more comrades Jean became determined that those deaths would not be in vain, that each one would be mourned and remembered.

Now Marco was telling him it was all meaningless; that years of pain, of suffering, of forging himself into a new man was meaningless. And the worst part was, that if Marco had regenerated—

Jean’s anger flared up and he snarled at his former friend. “You’re a Titan shifter, aren’t you?”

“I found out at Trost,” Marco admitted, shrugging like it was nothing.

Suddenly, Jean see could it: the serene expression on the Titan’s face as it flattened Armin was the same one on Marco’s right now. Even the freckles on that Titan’s cheeks—

“You hit Armin!” Jean accused. 

“Of course. Don’t you remember the war games back in training, Jean?” Marco said. “You always said that Armin was the smart one; if you take him out then the opposing team will fall apart.”

The blood ran cold in Jean’s veins. Those had been training exercises; they had been children playing at war, figuring out strengths and weaknesses. They weren’t supposed to be used this way, not against their own soldiers. 

Jean rushed at Marco, only Reiner’s strength holding him back. “You son of a bitch!”

Marco frowned, his patience finally wearing thin. He marched up to Jean, unconcerned that Mikasa was behind him. He poked a finger into Jean’s chest. “I risked a lot for you Jean,” he hissed, “maybe you should show a little appreciation.”

Jean was taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

“Look, we made a bargain,” Ymir interrupted. She was jittery, like an animal waiting to flee. “I just want to take Historia and go,” she said. 

“We’re not done,” Reiner said, finally letting Jean loose. “We haven’t gotten to Jaeger’s basement yet.” 

Ymir clutched at Historia’s hand as if terrified to let go. “I don’t need what’s in Jaeger’s basement.”

“You do if you want her to survive,” Bertolt snapped.

Ymir didn’t flinch, didn’t do anything more dramatic but sneer, but it was obvious she was displeased. 

Eren moaned, his voice tight with pain. “Won’t let you. Can’t--”

“Be still,” Mikasa chided him. 

Jean nodded in silent approval. Mikasa cherished Eren, would do anything to protect him even if it wounded his pride. Besides, the Titan shifter needed to concentrate on healing; he was useless in this state. 

“What’s in the basement, Ymir?” Historia asked. “What do they want?”

“Dr. Jaeger hid a formula to transform humans into Titan shifters in his basement,” Marco said. 

Jean wondered how long the shifters had known about it. The Scouting Legion had spent many nights by the campfire or around the mess hall table speculating about what Eren’s key would unlock. Some of the suggestions had been more wild than others but it had kept the curiosity burning inside them as each victory lead them closer to Jaeger’s former home.

“With that formula,” Marco continued, “we could finally keep those that have become precious close to us.” Jean couldn’t help but feel that those words were more ominous than they were. 

“And you wanted this formula for me?” Historia asked.

“They wanted my help with destroying the Walls,” Ymir admitted. “I only agreed to keep you safe.”

Historia scowled, shoving at Ymir with her one good hand. “What happened to only living life for ourselves?” Ymir backed away from the smaller woman’s fury. “Who said I wanted to be protected?”

“I wanted to protect you for me!” Ymir shouted, breathing heavily with emotion. “Because I want you, I care about you. Is that selfish enough?”

There was a brief silence as she waited for Historia’s response. Finally, the smaller woman nodded.

Ymir sighed, quirking her lips in a wry smile. “You’ve changed; I like it.”

Historia snorted, her hand grasping for Ymir’s once again. “We’ll talk later.”

Jean wondered if they were going to run the second everyone’s back was turned. He wouldn’t begrudge them the chance.

“We need to get moving,” Bertolt said. He pulled out some lengths of rope from inside his jacket and tossed them to his allies. “Secure the prisoners, including Mikasa.” He quickly bound Armin’s hands; he was not taking any chances. “I don’t want a repeat of last time.”

Ymir refused to move, the rope hung limp in her fist. “I’m not doing that to Historia,” she said.

The stress of the day was obviously weighing on Bertolt. His voice was low, allowing for no argument. “If you don’t do it, I will.”

Jean turned his head away from their drama to see how Mikasa was doing. In reality, he would have been happy watching paint dry if it meant not looking at Marco’s guilty face as he secured Jean’s hands.

Mikasa was scowling, Eren once again propped against the wall like a battered doll. Reiner was taking extra care in binding Mikasa; he knew just how dangerous she was. “If Eren gives us the key willingly, we’ll keep him safe,” Reiner offered. “We’ll also let you have some of the formula.” Reiner smiled sheepishly. It was painful to remember that he had once been their friend, something like an older brother to all of them. “We’d rather have you with us than against us.” 

Mikasa kept her answer diplomatic. “We’ll consider it when Eren’s healed.”

Jean doubted that Eren or Mikasa would actually agree to such a thing but, once again, Mikasa’s instinct was to keep them both alive to fight another day. He gave the rope on his wrists a quick tug. It wasn’t too tight, not like when he had been kidnapped before, but he wasn’t going anywhere. 

“What about Jean and Armin?” Mikasa asked, her eyes darting over to the men in question. God, how sad they must all look? Some of the most elite members of the Scouting Legion trussed up and helpless at the end of everything. 

“Armin’s fate is up to Annie,” Bertolt decided; he seemed to take a grim satisfaction at the thought. “Jean is already spoken for.”

Jean didn’t realize how close Marco was until he felt the other’s fingers on his chin. His head was turned, forced to look at Marco face to face. “It’ll be all right,” Marco said, trying to be reassuring. “We’ll be together, that’s all that matters.” The fingers moved to the back of Jean’s head, stroking the close-cropped hair.

Jean knew what was happening, but was too stunned to prevent it as Marco’s lips closed over his own. He kept his mouth shut tight and his hands flat against Marco’s chest, but the other wouldn’t move, wouldn’t be turned away. He felt all the blood rush to his ears, his face burning.

When Marco finally pulled back he looked disappointed. “You look a little shocked.” Jean did not answer him, just stared ahead at nothing. 

Mikasa had once confided in Jean that she was afraid that one day Eren would come back wrong, that somehow when he regenerated he wouldn’t really be Eren anymore. Had something like that happened to Marco? Usually Eren just hurt his limbs or his face, he didn’t have chunks of his head missing like Marco had. 

A cold shiver ran down Jean’s spine. This wasn’t right; the man he had known would never have betrayed them would never have sold them out. Jean had cared deeply for Marco, they had been best friends, but this was something he had never wanted. What they had shared was a brotherhood, not this, never this.

“There was a lot I never got to say during our training days,” Marco said, wistful in his recollection. “I was planning on telling you how much you meant to me once we joined the Military Police, but you know how that went.” The fingers playing with Jean’s hair curled around to stroke the other man’s cheek. 

Jean wanted to scream, to fight, to do anything to stop feeling so helpless. His eyes searched for Armin, needing some reassurance that the other man was still there. Armin watched him, eyes red with anger and tears. Jean wanted to say something, even if it was just those three simple words they spoke only to each other, but there was a tug at his wrists and he was being led out of the farmhouse, following Marco to god knows what fate. 

“Don’t worry, Jean.” Marco looked back over his shoulder, his expression as frightening as it was fond. “Now we have all the time in the world.”


	2. Part 2: Subterfuge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was honestly not planning any more for this universe but this idea popped into my head. That's it. This is all I'm writing for this. Enjoy.

_One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Spread and clench together. Hold flat._

Eren felt the calm meditative state wash over him as he inventoried his newly healed parts. It was an exercise he had worked out with Hange to make sure everything was still functioning. It was especially useful after a trying mission in keeping his emotions under control. To be honest, if he wasn’t doing this he would be smashing his brand new hand against the wall, shrieking with rage. 

They had lost. After all the effort, all of the sacrifice, they had lost. Yes, he was alive as were Mikasa and Armin-- thank god-- but they were still trapped, locked in a basement by the traitors who had disappeared years before. 

Mikasa sat next to him on the bed, watching Eren as he went through the motions. She didn’t inquire about his health; they had enough trust between them that she knew he would tell her if something was wrong.

Armin though, poor Armin, he was staring up at nothing, the bandage wrapped around his head stained dark with blood. It should have been changed hours ago, but Reiner had told them that they didn’t have the supplies. Eren did not want to think how much it was going to hurt once they peeled it back from the skin. 

It was Mikasa who finally broke the silence. “We have to give them a decision in the morning.”

Eren knew exactly what she meant. “We’ll tell them no,” he decided. “I fought for humanity, I won’t be used as a tool against them.”

“Don’t be hasty.” Armin’s voice was thick and raspy though he hadn’t spoken in hours. He lowered his gaze from the ceiling, his eyes red and raw; he had cried until he had run out of tears. 

“Do you have a plan?” Mikasa asked.

Armin shook his head. “Not yet, just a kernel of an idea.” 

Eren’s lips twisted into a scowl; normally he trusted Armin but the thought of him and Mikasa losing their humanity just stuck in Eren’s craw. “I won’t become a traitor.” He spat the word like it was poison in his mouth. 

Armin just gave his friend a mysterious smile. “I never said we would be.” 

Now Eren was intrigued. It seemed that Armin had been thinking through his grief. Good, because Eren had no clue how to proceed but he would do everything possible if they could get some sort of victory over their captors. 

“You know,” Armin said, “when Reiner extended the deal to us, it shows how short-sighted they really are.”

“What do you mean?” Mikasa asked.

“I don’t think Bertolt and Reiner have thought it through,” Armin said, letting the implications sink in. 

“If we become Titan shifters—“ Mikasa started.

“It will give us some much needed power,” Armin said. “We could use it to break free of them.” 

Eren snorted, clenching his fist. He had the shifter gift lurking under his skin and it still hadn’t saved his friends. But maybe Armin was onto something. Alone Eren could only do so much, but with Armin and Mikasa as Titans too-- 

“There’s no guarantee that they’ll give it to you, Armin,” Mikasa said, concerned. “They want Annie to decide what to do with you.”

Armin tipped his head back to look at the ceiling. He was still so young but the past few hours had aged him. “I don’t think she’ll kill me.” It was amazing how much confidence he had on the issue. “She’s too grateful that I actually cared, that I gave her the chance to come clean.”

Mikasa moved to the side, pressing herself up against the smaller blond, offering him her warmth. “I wouldn’t count on her kindness.”

Armin rolled his head to the side, eyes fixed on Mikasa. “I have to take the chance,” he said. “If I don’t, Jean—“ his voice cracked. He looked away, ashamed at his own weakness.

Without a word, Mikasa wrapped an arm around her friend, cradling him close. Armin was too tired, too wrecked to cry, but Eren could hear the hitch in Armin’s breath.

Eren felt his blood boil. He had been drifting in and out of consciousness when the Titan shifters had come so most of what had happened he heard second-hand from Mikasa. He wasn’t too worried about Historia; anyone laying a hand on her would suffer Ymir’s wrath but Jean—

Eren remembered the tightness in Mikasa’s voice as she described the scene; how her eyes narrowed and how her arms tightened around her knees as she told Eren that somehow Marco had come back from the dead. That sweet, caring, understanding Marco had touched Jean liked he owned him, had just smiled when he told them that he had smash Armin into a wall on purpose. Mikasa told Eren about her own helplessness, how she could do nothing as Jean was dragged away. 

Eren would be the first to admit that his relationship with Jean was tumultuous, but over the years they had become friends. Jean would usually be the first to say if he had a problem with Eren’s methods, but be just as quick to console the other for taking on too much blame when something went wrong. When Jean and Armin had gotten together, it was like the last piece of a puzzle had fallen into place. Eren’s little family had grown from three to four and it gave him a satisfaction that settled deep in his bones. Together the four of them could do anything; they could change the tide of humanity’s destiny. 

Jean was still a mouthy prick, but he had Eren’s back and Eren’s trust. The taller boy had treated Armin with respect and adoration, more than Eren could have ever wanted for his friend. Now Jean -- irritating, brash, critical, supportive, devoted Jean –- was in the hands of the enemy.

He had no illusions about what was happening upstairs; his only hope was that Jean wouldn’t break, that there would be something left to save. Perhaps Bertolt or Reiner would step in before things got too far, but he wasn’t counting on it. Eren had been deeply hurt when the Titan shifters had betrayed them, but years of counseling with Armin had helped him deal with it. He knew that they had been just children following the orders of some unknown being. But Marco had been fifteen, he had graduated with them all, had been a soldier when he made his deal. What was his excuse? 

Mikasa was murmuring something in Armin’s ear, much too low for Eren to hear. Armin was finally calming down, gaining control over his heated emotions. Mikasa pressed a comforting kiss to the top of his head letting him know that she was there, she understood.

Eren was tired of doing nothing. He reached out past Mikasa, grabbing for Armin’s hand. When the other boy looked at him, he said, “We’re getting Jean back, okay? No matter what happens we’re not leaving him behind.” He was filled with the same fierce determination that led him to make that vow all those years ago that he would kill every Titan himself. Eren squeezed Armin’s hand for emphasis. “He’s family.” 

There was a long silence as Armin looked into Eren’s eyes, as if he was pulling strength from his friend. “Thank you,” he said, squeezing Eren’s hand back. He straightened up, but didn’t shrug off Mikasa’s arm. He looked more composed now, like the Armin who constructed battle strategies rather than the child who needed comfort. 

“You know,” Armin said, voice full of nostalgia, “Marco and I used to spend hours talking to each other after training.” It seemed like an odd topic for conversation, but Eren listened.

“We talked about our dreams for the future, about what we hoped to accomplish. He had really wanted to serve the King, to be the best Military Police officer he could. Me--” Armin let out a soft sigh. “I just wanted to be useful, to not be weak for once.”

“You were never weak,” Eren blurted out, feeling defensive. Hearing Armin talk about Marco was bringing out all those conflicting feelings of sorrow and anger that Eren held toward their former comrade. He wished that Armin would stop.

But the blond just smiled. “I was always weak; I’ve learned not to be ashamed about it.” His voice took on that odd wistful tone again. “We were both so scared and so hopeful about everything. After Marco passed, I wondered if he would be proud of us, of how brave we all were. I wondered if he was looking down on all of us, watching over us.” 

Then Armin grinned, his lips pulling back to show far too many teeth. “Now all I can think about,” he said, “is how I’m going to kill him.” 

Eren felt his lips curl back, his own grin matching Armin’s. The dark burn of vengeance was very familiar to Eren Jaeger and, for the first time, he was seeing it in his friend. He grasped at Armin’s hand once again, this time in camaraderie rather than comfort. “ _We’ll_ kill him,” Eren said.

He felt another hand rest on top of theirs. “The three of us,” Mikasa insisted. “We’ll do it together.” 

Yes, this was how it should be. They could bide their time, play at cooperation until an opening presented itself. Jean belonged to them, not to Marco, not to the shifters, but to them. Walls may crumble, dreams may fade, but family was forever. They had been drawn together by love, by blood and by tears. Eren had been through too much to lose any of them now. 

Marco was going to rue the day he ever touched their family.


	3. War Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said I wasn't doing any more for this story? Apparently, I lied.
> 
> There is some mature content at the end of this chapter for those who are sensitive to it but about 90% of this is trainee days shenanigans.

They only had a few more months until graduation, just a little more time until the rankings were announced. Jean had to be patient; he could endure more exercises and a few more evaluations to live his dream. Living in the interior and commanding the respect of civilians were just icing on the cake; what he really wanted was safety and never suffering from hunger again. 

“Listen up cadets, today we are foregoing the usual training exercises,” Shadis announced as the 104th Training Squad lined up for morning drills. “Instead, we will be playing ‘Capture the Flag’ using your 3 Dimensional Maneuver Gear. This will not count toward your final grades but you will be observed so that we can focus on individual skills you may still need work on.” 

Jean couldn’t help but think that was a backhanded way of saying that it did count. 

“You have been assigned to teams of ten with one captain per team,” Shadis explained. “The teams are posted on the wall along with your game time. While waiting for your game time feel free to use the other facilities for practice. Teams will only be allowed to meet five minutes prior to the match to discuss strategy. Dismissed.”

Five minutes? They must really want people to think on their feet. Jean made his way over to the board at a leisurely pace, not wanting to be crushed by the eager throng of cadets. And right on cue Jean heard Eren yelp as someone stepped on his foot. He bit back a smirk as Mikasa admonished her “brother” for his clumsiness. 

As the others found their teams and started to disperse, Jean considered how the day was going to go. He was under no illusions that he was a leader; he’d probably be working under someone else. That was fine, he’d listen and contribute any ideas that he might have. If he did as he was told it would show that he could follow orders, a fine trait for a member of the Military Police. He imagined that “winning” was less important in this non-evaluating event than demonstrating teamwork and all that stuff they liked to harp on about in class. Jean nodded to himself. This could work out pretty nicely. 

His eyes scanned the board and at first he couldn’t believe what he saw. They had made him captain of the blue team, shit he was going to have to put more effort into this. Who was captain of the opposing yellow team? Jean scoffed, his expression sour. Of course it was Yeager and of course they were the first teams up. 

Jean wondered what the hell he had done to deserve this. Then he remembered last week and the fight. Despite their reputation Jean and Eren didn’t actually fight all that often, and it rarely ever got physical. Jean couldn’t even remember what it was about but he remembered the crunch of Eren’s nose under his fist and the burst of red blood.

Jean also remembered his face burning with shame as he babbled apologies and reached over to feel Eren’s face. The other boy had batted his hand away, not angry so much as in pain. It had been awful the way Mikasa had glared at him and Armin had fussed over Eren’s red, bleeding face. The three of them had gone to the medic leaving Jean standing there wondering what to do. Hours later Armin let him know that nothing was broken. It was a relief to hear; Jean didn’t necessarily like the guy but he didn’t deserve a busted nose. 

So despite the fact that Jean had apologized and Eren had muttered that it was okay, Shadis wanted to see them go at it again. The instructors were goddamn sadists.

Jean felt a warm body take its place at his side. “It looks like I’m on your team,” Marco said, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah,” Jean said. Good, he knew that he had at least one person he could count on. Jean looked over the names of the rest of his teammates. He had Connie, Sasha, Reiner, Marco, Mina, a couple of recruits he didn’t know and Mikasa. He wasn’t quite as daffy about her as he was at thirteen but she was still pretty and amazing and distracting—

He needed a formation that kept her far away from him or he was not going to last the match. Okay, maybe an answer would come from Eren’s lineup. He had Armin, Annie, Bertolt, Hannah, Franz, Thomas and three others. Jean did not envy Eren having to put up with Hannah and Franz but Armin put Jean at a major disadvantage. 

Armin was smart, really smart where Eren was impulsive and less calculated. Without Armin, Eren would be much easier to deal with. Jean formulated a simple plan; he just hoped he’d have enough time to explain it in just five minutes. 

Since they were the first matchup, the two teams made their way over to the testing range to get kitted out. First was the standard 3DMG, followed by a fabric tie wrapped around the waist. Anyone could be eliminated from the game if their flag was taken. Jean figured that Armin was like himself and he would realize that it didn’t matter how many teammates were left standing at the end as long as the enemy flag was captured. 

“The main objective is to capture the enemies’ flag at their base, anything else is secondary.” Jean explained. He drew a simple diagram in the dirt with his fingers with x’s symbolizing his formation and o’s for his guess about Eren’s. “We’re going to be paired off into teams of two to cover each other as we make our way to the enemy’s territory. Based on what I know about Armin, he’s probably going to have his team spread out to cover the largest possible area. Reiner, your main job is taking out Armin.”

“What?” Jean could feel Mikasa’s glare boring into the back of his head. When he turned to meet her stare it was even worse. He swallowed his fear and stood his ground.

“Armin is the strategist,” Jean said. “Without him Eren’s team is going to fall apart.”

“But Reiner might crush him,” Mikasa said, her voice intense.

Jean winced at the image of Armin accidently being squished under Reiner’s weight. He could even imagine Armin’s little arm twitching from under the bulk of the bigger cadet. Jean conceded that point. He just wanted Armin out of the game not taken out completely. “You’re right.” He turned his attention to Connie. “Connie, you and Marco will be paired up. You’ll go after Armin and get his flag then move on toward enemy territory.” 

Jean noticed that Marco seemed a little disappointed, but Jean couldn’t care. This was a training exercise even if the brass pretended it wasn’t. Jean wasn’t always going to have Marco around to cover his tail.

Connie nodded. “Sure.”

“Just go easy on him,” Jean said, the image of a twitching Armin still squirreling about in his mind. “Armin’s smart but he’s pretty delicate.”

“He’s not weak,” Mikasa snapped. Oh, she was going to be a problem.

Jean sucked in a breath and steeled up his nerve. “Look, are you going to listen or are you just going to make shitty comments?” he snapped at her. “Because I’ve only got a few minutes left.”

Mikasa’s lips flattened into a hard line but she didn’t say anything else. He gave out the other assignments quickly: Reiner and one of the unknowns would stay by the flag as guards with Reiner out in the open and the other cadet hiding out of sight, Mina and Mikasa would be left flank with a focus on distracting Annie, the other two he didn’t know would cover right flank—

“And Sasha and I will move up from the center,” Jean said. Sasha gave Connie a big grin; she seemed pleased at being given such an important slot. “We’ll try to keep in touch as we go but it won’t be easy.” 

“What about covering Eren?” Mikasa asked.

Jean pretended that she didn’t have an ulterior motive for that question. “I’ll take care of Eren.”

Reiner grinned, his big arms crossed in front of his chest. “Really?”

Jean could feel his face falling into his standard pissed off position; there were days when he really resented his reputation. “I actually have a plan, asshole,” he said. 

The big blond just laughed and Jean had to reel in his temper. “Okay, do we know what we’re doing?” he asked everyone.

Connie scratched the back of his head. “Sort of.”

That did not fill Jean with confidence. God, this exercise had better not be a disaster. 

“Time’s up,” Shadis said. Eren and Jean’s team lined up at the start. They would have only two minutes to get into their formations before the match would begin. “The Captains need to shake hands.” Shadis had a smirk on his face that was definitely malicious.

Eren rolled his eyes and stuck out his hand. “What is with these guys today?” he asked. 

“I think it’s about last week,” Jean muttered, giving Eren’s hand a couple of pumps. 

“Really?” Eren shook his head and got into launch position. “All this over a weak punch?”

That put Jean’s dander up. “Weak punch?” he shouted. “Your nose was a blood geyser! I was actually worried, you jerk!”

“Kirstein!” Shadis snapped.

Jean flushed under the admonishment and jerked his head up front. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Armin nodding. He wondered: had Armin told Eren to insult him to throw him off his game? That little shit.

“Get into positions,” Shadis ordered, “the match is about to begin.”

Jean shot his cables into the nearest tree and soared into the air. He could hear the whoosh of all the players as they launched themselves into position. He made his way to his post, grateful that Sasha was keeping up. They had only a few seconds. “Sasha,” he ordered, “if we run into Eren just let me take care of him. No matter what happens to me move forward to the flag.”

“Really?” Sasha asked, bobbing a little in the air. “You two are just going to fight again.”

“I’m counting on it,” Jean said, “That’s why you need to stay hidden, don’t let anyone see you.”

It took a few seconds but Jean saw Sasha’s eyes light up in understanding. She grinned, “You got it, Captain.”

A green flare went up and they were off. Jean and Sasha pushed their way through the trees, moving as quickly as they could. Jean refrained from wasting gas showing off, he didn’t need to impress anyone with his skill today but with his mind. Sasha was higher up, using her experience with hunting to stay camouflaged. They sailed by Hannah who made an odd birdcall as they passed.

Jean put the thought to the back of his mind until they passed Franz who made the same sound.

“What are they doing?” Sasha asked.

Jean remembered a lesson from a few weeks ago about long distance communication with sound. Most everyone had ignored it but he remembered Armin chatting excitedly about whistle patterns. “Telling everyone where we are,” Jean said. “Armin must have—“

At that moment, Eren Yeager dropped down from above. Jean dodged out of the way just in time. He motioned for Sasha to go, not wanting to draw attention to her. She vanished into the forest.

Yeager finished his arc down and swung back up at breakneck speed. He either hadn’t seen Sasha or didn’t care because he was going straight for Jean. The taller boy back flipped out of the way, just out of reach of Eren’s grasping hand. Eren was darting in and out of the trees with reckless abandon; all Jean needed to do was keep Eren busy.

On another day he would have matched Eren in sheer crazy, desperately grasping at Eren’s flag just to show him up. But not today, he had something different to prove. The sound of Eren’s team making birdcalls was the only accompaniment to their duel. The wind was intense as they raced through branches, Jean staying just out of reach as Eren pursued. 

He was trying not to waste energy but it was hard when he could feel Eren’s fingers at his back. Jean did a flip backwards just evading his rival’s attack. Jean didn’t know how long he was going to have to keep this up. 

Connie’s shout drifted through the trees. “I got him!”

Eren pushed off a tree, launching himself at Jean. When he got near, Jean twisted to the side, letting Eren rush past him.

“Hey Eren,” Jean yelled. He wanted pay back for that little comment before the match. “Connie just got Armin! Look’s like you’ll have to think for yourself for once.”

That did it; Eren’s face was tomato red as he turned in midair. He pushed the gas and Jean realized he was not going to be able to get out of the way. Jean felt the air rush out of his lungs as Eren slammed him into a tree.

The smaller boy was right on top of him, hands gripping Jean’s lapels. “You think that’s funny?” Eren shouted. “What about this?” Eren reached down and ripped the blue fabric off from around Jean’s waist. He waved Jean’s flag in the air, triumph written all over his face.

Jean was out of the game. Damn, that did not last as long as he would have wanted. He just hoped that this little performance only hurt his pride and not the team. 

There was a pop as a flare gun fired, taking attention away from their little drama to the wider picture. Blue smoke arched through the air, filling Jean’s vision. He felt the tension leaving his shoulders. They had won; Sasha had actually done it. 

Jean couldn’t help indulging in his smarmiest smirk. “Yeah, I do think it’s funny,” he said.

Eren looked away from the flare back to Jean and then back to the flare. “But you were—“ Eren stuttered. 

“Any teammate can capture the flag, Eren,” Jean explained, “not just the captain.”

Much to Jean’s surprise, Eren did not get angry. Instead, he burst out laughing. He let go of Jean to clutch at his own stomach. “I didn’t think your ego would let someone else get it.”

Damn it, Eren just had to take a dig at him. Jean shoved the shorter boy away. “Shut up,” he said, “you’re just pissed I beat you.” He dislodged his cables and anchored them into another tree, making his way to the exit. 

“No, wait.” Great, now Eren was following him. “I’m really impressed,” Eren said, keeping pace. “I mean it.” He turned around so that he could look at Jean as they swung through the trees. “That’s the kind of thing that they’re looking for in the Scouting Legion.”

Jean gritted his teeth, not this again. “I told you, I’m not stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, you’ll be wasted in the Military Police,” Eren insisted. “You could be an amazing asset.”

“I don’t want to be a dead asset,” Jean snapped. 

“Come on,” Eren grinned, trying to appeal to Jean’s vanity. “Like a Titan could ever get you.”

Three years ago, Jean might have fallen for that flattery crap but not now. He landed safely on the ground and gave Eren his most evil scowl. “Drop it, Eren.”

“Attention!” Shadis ordered. The members of the two teams stood at attention, awaiting dismissal from their instructor. “I have to say that I’m shocked,” Shadis said. “I had intended to use your match to demonstrate exactly what not to do but you have shattered my expectations.”

Jean had to fight to keep the annoyance off his face. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Yeager struggling to do the same. Good, he wasn’t the only one pissed off.

The instructor continued, “Lessons from this demonstration: learn your enemies’ weaknesses and use them effectively, always communicate in the field, and never be afraid to make the sacrifice play.” Jean could feel Shadis’s eyes drift to him. Good, maybe that would work favorably on Jean’s final score despite this supposedly not counting. “Is that clear?”

“Sir, yes sir!” the cadets answered back.

“Good,” Shadis said. “You are dismissed.”

The groups dispersed with Jean’s team clustering around him. “That was amazing,” Connie said.

Marco gave Jean a quick squeeze on the arm. “Good work, Jean.”

“Thank Sasha,” Jean said throwing an arm around her shoulder. “She’s the one who pulled it off.”

Sasha flushed at the praise. “What made you think I could do it?” she asked.

Jean answered her honestly: “You’re a crazy person on the gear, I never have any idea what the hell you’re doing. I figured if you confuse me you’d confuse anyone.” 

Sasha gave him a playful shove, acting like she had been wounded by the comment. 

“How did everyone else do?” Jean asked.

“Marco and I got Armin right away,” Connie said, “and then we kept moving forward distracting the other team as we went.”

“I got tagged by Franz,” Marco admitted, “but he was too busy with me to do anything else.”

“No one even got near the flag with Reiner there,” the redhead whose name Jean couldn’t even remember said.

“What about Annie?” Jean asked, looking for Mikasa and finding nothing.

“Mikasa and Annie were really going at it,” Mina offered. “I just stayed out of the way.”

Jean barely listened as he scanned the area for his missing teammate. He spotted Mikasa over by Eren’s group. Well, that didn’t take long. He sighed; there really was nothing he could do that would impress that girl. 

Mikasa and Eren were hovering over Armin who looked absolutely miserable. What was that about? He excused himself from the others and walked over, not willing to admit he was genuinely concerned. He had instructed Connie not to hurt the little guy, had something gone wrong?

“I’m sorry,” he overheard Armin say. “I was the first to get caught; I cost you the victory, Eren.”

The feeling of triumph soured in Jean’s stomach. He felt bad that Armin would blame himself. 

“It’s not your fault,” Mikasa reassured the blond.

“It is,” Armin said, “if I wasn’t so weak—“

“Hey,” Jean interrupted, shoving his way past Eren. He ignored the glare the shorter boy gave him and grabbed Armin by the shoulders. “We targeted you on purpose,” he admitted, “not because you’re weak but because you’re smart.” Large blue eyes stared up at him and he knew he had Armin’s attention. “Eren’s a moron,” Jean could hear Eren sputter behind him, “without you he runs off and does stupid shit. The only reason I won is because I was thinking like you.” Armin looked startled at that confession. “We still have months until graduation. You need to get better so that you can stick around and keep him from doing stupid shit, got it?”

It may have been the worst motivational speech ever but it brought a subtle change to Armin’s face. Instead of self-flagellating, Armin seemed to be contemplating something. He wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve. “Thanks, Jean,” he said.

“You’re welcome.” Jean took a hand from the smaller boy’s shoulder and ruffled his fluffy blond hair. He was a little surprised at how soft it was. The action earned him a swat on the hand from Armin but it was worth it to get him out of his funk. Jean took his leave with his shoulder bumping against Eren just to prove he wasn’t going soft. 

It was just one little group exercise in a three-year training period from hell. In the aftermath of Trost, of betrayals, of fighting and falling in love it barely registered as a memory in Jean’s mind. There were other moments that seemed so much more important: finding Marco’s body, joining the Scouting Legion, plugging the hole in wall Maria, hearing Armin murmur his devotion in hushed tones before surprising Jean with their first kiss. It wasn’t until almost five years later that the memory would rush to the forefront and the lessons Shadis wanted them to learn. It wasn’t until Marco, long thought dead, had turned into a Titan and nearly killed Armin that Jean remembered. 

Lesson one: learn the enemies’ weaknesses and use them against them. When the ragged group reached the abandoned house Jean let Marco lead him up the stairs to the bedroom. He allowed Marco to think that there was a shared affection between them. He endured Marco’s kisses and the hands caressing his back. He could pretend that his heart wasn’t screaming for the young man with the gaping head wound in the basement. He could make Marco think that Jean wanted him as he pushed the dark haired man to the bed.

Lesson two: communicate in the field. Once his task was done, Jean would sneak past Reiner and Bertolt to let his friends out of the basement. Eren should be recovered and Mikasa was still okay, they could make their escape without Armin’s injury being too much of a burden. 

Lesson three: never be afraid to make the sacrifice play. He let Marco work off Jean’s shirt, leaving him bare-chested and vulnerable to Marco’s gaze. He allowed his hand to drift into Marco’s pants and grasp the hardness waiting there. Jean teased Marco with his fingers and then his mouth, waiting, waiting for his opportunity. When Marco finally spent, the evidence of his lust dribbling from the corners of Jean’s mouth, his smile was one of long desired triumph. 

Marco closed his eyes to rest and Jean made his move. He rose up and straddled his friend’s body, Marco sighed with contentment, although satisfied with his recent release he no doubt expected more. He never suspected that Jean was pinning him down with thighs not for pleasure but for leverage. The pillow was large, soft and completely covered Marco’s airway when Jean pressed it down over his face.

Marco struggled, bucking his hips, his hands clawing at Jean’s in his need for air. Jean watched, his face cold as his best friend, someone he had mourned, died again at his own hands. Grief could not begin to describe the pulse of pain behind his eyes. 

Jean’s chest heaved as if greedily sucking in the air that he had denied Marco. The Titan Shifter was still beneath him, the tips of his fingers turning blue. Jean had no idea how effective the other man’s healing factor was. He had to wait.

There was a loud knock on the bedroom door. “Jean! Are you in there?” It was Eren, thank the Wall.

“Bust the door down,” Jean said. “I can’t move yet.”

He heard the wooden door creak as a body, perhaps two slammed against it twice before it smashed open. He looked over his shoulder at the intruders, but stayed straddling the body. He had expected Eren, Mikasa and Armin but was surprised to see Historia and Ymir in their company.

Just what he needed, more people to witness his humiliation. Jean kept the pressure down on the pillow; he could not risk Marco reviving.

“Jean.” It was a breathless whisper, a question and an answer. Jean knew that voice, had heard it speak in anger, excitement and contemplation. He loved it well. He welcomed Armin’s thin arms as they wrapped around him. Jean leaned his head into the crook of Armin’s neck, feeling soft hair flutter against his cheek.

“I’m okay,” he reassured the blond. He pulled back to examine Armin’s face. He was pale and still in need of medical attention. 

Armin’s thumb wiped at the corner of Jean’s mouth. Jean winced, knowing just how he looked. “I did what I had to do,” Jean said, not an excuse but a declaration.

The palms of Armin’s hands were warm as he cupped Jean’s face. “Is he dead?” Armin asked.

“I think so, but I don’t know if a Shifter can heal from this,” Jean admitted. 

Armin kissed him, soft and sweet. Jean knew that Armin could taste Marco in his mouth, but the other man didn’t seem to care. “We’ll finish it,” Armin said, indicating himself and the others. “I’m proud of you.”

Jean finally allowed himself to slide off of Marco, his feet firmer than he expected on the ground. He picked up his discarded shirt and slid it on as Mikasa approached. “You might want to leave the room,” Mikasa said. Jean glanced down, lighting on the knife in her hand. 

“Right.” Historia took his arm with Ymir and Armin pressing close as they took him away. Eren and Mikasa stayed behind with Marco’s body. Jean decided that he didn’t want to know what they were going to do. “Where’s Bertolt and Reiner?” he asked.

“They left after Marco took you upstairs,” Ymir said. “They didn’t have the stomach for it.”

“And you two?” he asked, indicating Ymir and Historia.

“We let the others out of the basement,” Historia said. “You’ve been a good friend and Ymir—“ Her beautiful blue eyes darted to her long lost love. 

“I can’t refuse her,” Ymir admitted. “And I thought that giving you to Marco was shitty.” She muttered the last, trying to maintain her famous aloofness. 

All Jean could manage was a mumbled thanks. “What’s the plan?” he asked.

“Ymir and Eren will shift and carry us back to the Wall. The Garrison should be at the watch and can let us back in,” Armin explained. 

The brunette woman balked. “I never said I was coming back,” Ymir said.

“Ymir,” Historia said. “Ever since I’ve become Queen there has been pressure for me to marry and produce an heir.” Jean could actually see the steam rising from Ymir’s angry cheeks. “I went on this expedition to look for you. I risked my life just to see you again,” she explained. There was steel in her resolve, a power in her speech that made those older and more experienced respect her as their monarch. “Don’t disappoint me.”

Ymir chuckled; she knew that she had been beaten. “Fine,” she said. “But I’m not happy about it.”

Historia reached up, her delicate hand curving around the back of Ymir’s neck. “If you’re with me, you will be.” It wasn’t just any promise, but the promise of a Queen.

Jean suddenly felt inadequate. “I just killed an enemy of mankind and I look like dogmeat next to her,” he muttered into Armin’s ear. 

The creaks on the stairs let them know that the work was done. There was no blood, just a cloud of steam. Although it was to be expected when dealing with a Titan, Jean still found it a little jarring. Mikasa and Eren shared the same grave expression. “He won’t bother us anymore,” Eren said. He moved forward and drew Jean into an embrace. 

It was awkward and made even more so when Mikasa and Armin surrounded him, pulling him into the comfort of their arms, but Jean did not have the heart or the mind to push them away. He needed them, these three disparate people to complete his life. He had killed for them and they had returned the favor time and time again. A few years ago he never imagined being part of anything like this. 

“Welcome home,” Armin whispered, his small frail heart beating against Jean’s back.

It was only then, at those words, that Jean allowed himself to cry.


End file.
